Classic Poem

Still versteckt der Mond sich draussen

Still the bashful moon is hiding
Close behind the evergreen;
And the lamp upon the table
Flickers and is scarcely seen.

But those two blue stars are shining
O'er the heaven of her cheeks;
And the crimson rose is glowing,
And the lovely child still speaks.

" Tiny goblins, imp-like faeries
Clean our little cupboard bare;
It is full of food at evening
And at daylight — nothing's there!

" And the thieving Little People
Skim our cream, our very best;
Then they leave the pans uncovered
And the cat licks up the rest.

" And that cat's a witch, I know it;
For she slinks off every night
To the old and ruined castle
On the haunted mountain-height.

" Once a mighty castle stood there
Full of armor and romance;
Shining knights and lovely ladies
Laughed in many a torchlight dance.

" Then an old enchantress cursed it,
Cursed each stone and winding stair.
Now there's nothing left but ruins;
And the owls have nested there.

" But my dear old aunt once told me
If one speaks the Word of Might
At the proper, magic moment,
And the hour and place be right,

" Then the castle shall be lifted
From the ruined stones — and then
All the vanished knights and ladies
Will arise and dance again.

" And who speaks that word of magic,
Knights and ladies, wall and tower,
All are his; while drums and trumpets
Hail his new and happy power. "

Thus the faery legends blossom
From her mouth, that rose-in-bloom,
While her eyes are pouring starlight
In the still and darkened room.

Round my hands she winds her golden
Tresses, binding me at will;
Gives my fingers pretty nicknames;
Kisses, laughs — and then grows still.

And the hushed room edges closer,
Watching with a friendly light . . .
Table, chest — it seems I must have
Seen them all before to-night.

Amiably the old clock gossips,
And the zither, scarcely heard,
Plays itself with airy fingers;
And, as in a dream, I'm stirred . . .

This must be the proper hour;
Yes, the time and place are right.
And I think I feel it gliding
From my lips — that Word of Might!

Do you see, my child, how quickly
Midnight trembles now and breaks!
Brooks and pine-trees murmur louder,
And the ancient mountain wakes.

Clang of zither, elfin voices
Rise from glens and faery bowers;
And a wild, fantastic Springtime
Brings a forest full of flowers.

Flowers, trembling and audacious,
Flowers, strangely broad and tall,
Fling their eager scents and colors
As though passion swayed them all.

Roses, red as flame, and burning
From the brilliant tumult, rise;
Lilies, like great crystal columns,
Tower straight into the skies.

And the stars, with fiery longing,
Great as suns, look down and blaze,
Till the lilies' hearts are flooded
With those eager, showering rays.

But ourselves, my child, are altered
More than all of these — and see!
Gleaming torches, silks and jewels
Shimmer 'round us radiantly.

You, you have become a princess,
And this hut's a castle tall;
Knights and ladies dance rejoicing;
And there's magic over all.

Ah, but I have won the castle,
Knights and ladies, wall and tower;
Even you — and drums and trumpets
Hail my new and happy power!